


Lost Under the Surface

by Crowgirl



Series: Scars Remind Us [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, Flashback, Hell, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ongoing discussion, and ramifications thereof, between Dean and Castiel about the after-effects of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Under the Surface

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit warnings at end of fic.

XXVII.

Dean dreams.

_...light heat noise pain..._

_All yours, Ori..._

_Dean waits._

_He can't see; he can feel and smell._

_There’s smoke somewhere nearby -- who’d’ve guessed: there’s smoke in Hell! -- and he can feel heat over his body and he knows he’s naked and he knows that some time -- some unknowable amount of time -- previous to this moment all of these things would have had him yelling for Sam._

_But he’s tried that and Sam doesn’t come and he knows why now and this is better than nothing._

_So when a hand touches him, touches his shoulder, runs down over his breast with a hard tweak to his nipple, he responds -- he responds like the whore he knows they’ve made him into and he doesn’t care._

_...light heat noise pain..._

* * *

‘Dean?’ Castiel awakes some time late in the night -- the moon has set but the sun is not yet warming the windows -- and Dean is muttering again.

The angel blinks himself awake -- sleeping and waking still feel so strange; how do humans move from one to the other so easily? -- and pushes himself up on one elbow.

* * *

 _...light heat noise pain..._

_He’s hard. Harder than he remembers being in his life. He can feel a slow trickle down his back he knows is blood but the pain doesn’t feel as sharply present as the ache between his thighs._

_He wants to fuck something -- anything that will release that feeling._

_‘Mmm...tasty little human boy...’ Something wet laps at his shoulderblade._

_‘So nice of Alastair to share.’ Fingers run down over his arm and he feels something sharp dig in just below his hand. He can feel the cut, the slice in his skin that draws down his hand, towards his fingertips._

_He wants to whimper, wants to cry out and beg for the pain to cease, but that will just make it go on longer and hurt more, so he bites his tongue, draws blood from the inside of his lip._

_...light heat noise pain..._

* * *

‘Dean?’ Castiel touches his shoulder lightly, not wanting him to wake up if, as has happened before, Dean is just reciting driving directions in his sleep. 

But Dean flinches away from his hand, muscles going tight as if Castiel had struck him.

* * *

_...light heat noise pain..._

_He thinks at least one of his fingers is down to bone now._

_When something warm and soft presses against his mouth, he snatches at it with his teeth, aching for something other than his own lip to chew on._

_‘Eager, aren’t you?’ A voice says with a slight gasp and he realises it’s a woman’s breast pressed against his lips, smeared with something salty, bitter-tasting: blood or come or both._

_He bites harder, willing the pain to transfer from his burning hand. The woman -- demon -- whatever -- gasps again, then laughs and yanks herself away from his mouth._

_...light heat noise pain..._

* * *

‘Dean, wake up.’ Castiel touches his arm again, more firmly this time. ‘Wake up.’

Dean twists, mumbles something into the pillow.

‘Dean!’

* * *

 _...light heat noise pain..._

_There are bodies pressing around him -- he can feel the side of a thigh against his bloodied arm; someone -- something -- has an arm around his leg; there’s a hand tracing up the inside of his thigh._

_He can smell blood, sweat, smoke, and a sweet, sickly burning that he knows is flesh on a fire. For demons, that’s better than incense._

_‘All yours...’ The hand leaves the inside of his leg, then the press of flesh around him releases and, just for a moment, he’s grateful. For a minute, he imagines the worst might be over._

_Something hot, too hot to stand, engulfs the tip of his cock and spears into his body at the same moment and he screams._

_… light heat noise pain..._

* * *

‘Dean!’ 

Dean whips over too fast for Castiel to react and pins him against the bed. 

The breath goes out of Castiel with a grunt and he can only stare up at Dean whose eyes are barely focused and whose hands are so tight on his arms as to make the healing bruises hurt again. ‘Dean -- Dean, you--

‘Don’t _fucking_ touch me,’ Dean hisses abruptly, then, apparently ignoring what he just said, grinds his mouth down on Castiel’s, pushing so hard Castiel’s teeth ache. Then he shifts his attention, biting his way down Castiel’s throat to his collarbone, biting hard enough that Castiel almost feels Dean wants to taste blood.

‘Dean, I--’ 

Dean raises his head, eyes gleaming in the dim light. ‘Don’t’cha want me, angel?’ He lifts his body and presses down over Castiel, sliding his cock between Castiel’s thighs. ‘Don’t’cha?’

Castiel groans, unable to think quickly enough. His body is clouding what he wants to say. The slow slide of Dean's body over his, the firmness between his legs is making it hard to think -- he cannot seem to pull words together to make clear what he wants to say.

Dean grins at him again, a feral expression that twists his features in a way Castiel does not like, and drops his head, pushing Castiel's shirt out of the way. He pulls Castiel’s nipples into his mouth, one than the other, nipping and biting at them until Castiel gasps and grabs at his head, desperate to pull away from the touch that is too close to pain. Dean jerks his head away, begins biting a hot line down over Castiel’s ribs, his hands roaming lower, stroking and pressing down between Castiel's legs.

‘Dean -- Dean, I -- you -- were asleep -- dreaming!' Castiel gasps out the words against the rising tide of sensation that wants to cloud his brain. Dean's fingers flick over the tip of his cock and he jerks. 'I think -- I -- you were--’ He gasps out half-finished sentences, hands scrabbling at Dean’s shoulders. ‘I do not think -- I do not want --’

Dean growls out something that Castiel cannot understand and glances up at Castiel as he slides the last few inches and sucks the tip of Castiel’s cock into his mouth.

Castiel cries out -- whether in protest or gratitude he has no idea -- and arches off the bed against Dean. 

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this series, I was not intending to write anything at all like this. If you're freaked out, join the club 'cause so am I. 
> 
> I can promise you that the rape/non-con warning is for a flashback to Hell and is nothing to do with the present-day relationship except inasmuch as it has an unfortunate knock-on effect.
> 
> Title from "Numb," Linkin Park, _Meteora_.


End file.
